


Salt, Tobasco, and Worcestershire Sauce

by plummuffins



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, College AU, Demons, F/F, Nothing is Sacred, Pranks, Urban Legends, glitter tw, i hate homestuck, mirror demon girlfriends what's next
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:18:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plummuffins/pseuds/plummuffins
Summary: Ever wondered what happens when you summon Bloody Mary?What if when you summon Bloody Mary you discover she's actually super hot?Join Rose Lalonde as she begins her lesbian phase in college by accidentally summoning Kanaya Maryam, aka Bloody Maryam, at her good friend John's birthday party.idk if you haven't clicked this story by now you're not a real fan





	1. Curiosity, Cats, and Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryptiddentalstudent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptiddentalstudent/gifts), [Xailey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xailey/gifts).



> this work is dedicated as it says to cryptiddentalstudent (Mich), but it is also dedicated to xailey (Eliz). they're my "moirials" and i keep promising Mich that i will write them some rosemary shit. Eliz gets this dedicated to them because they have been trying to get me to read homestuck for 8 years and have continiously bothered me about it and it was only through the combined effort of them and their (kinda) kismesis (Mich) that i have finally started it [not finished yet]. also thank you for the plot assistance, Mich and for both of your help with characterization Q's b/c i'm a disaster.
> 
> so happy 4/13 aaaand here is some shit i wrote enjoy it

 

“Happy Birthday!” You watch Dave burst into John’s house and immediately regret it as opening the door triggers a bucket secured above the door to dump shimmery blue glitter down onto him. 

Behind him you preen in quiet amusement, clearly having foreseen such a prank. Your twin shoots you an annoyed glare as he shakes his head, dislodging what he can as you hear footsteps on the stairs leading down to the entry. You can see little specks glimmer on his sunglasses as you edge around him into the house. You gingerly take the presents he was carrying and head towards the kitchen. As soon as you enter the doorway to that room, however, you trigger a second trap and a cascade of bright yellow glitter showers down over you. Clearly, John knew you'd be too smart to enter first, and he had also known you would not suspect the same prank twice in a row. You cough, inhaling some of it as the tiny shimmery disasters embed themselves onto you promising that you will be finding evidence of their invasion months from now in places you never could have imagined were colonized. 

Of course, that is when Jade appears, laughing when she realizes what’s happened to you and Dave. She’s covered in evidence of pink glitter, indicating her brother had got her already with pranks this morning.

“Rose, Dave!” she greets you both happily. 

“Where’s John,” you demand, frowning as you realize the glitter is not only yellow but it is shaped like tiny smiley faces. Their grins mock you for your arrogance. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Aw, you can’t kill him on his birthday,” Jade chides you, giving Dave a hug he tolerates before she moved on to hugging you. You let out a sigh, accepting your glittery fate, observing that Jade is now covered in three kinds of glitter and therefore has it worse. You, Jade, and Dave generally accept being pranked by John on his birthday, giving him one free pass a year. Like the Purge helped to keep criminals from committing crimes all the time, this arrangement stops John from wreaking havoc year-round.

“Yeah,” Dave says smoothly as he walks from the entry to join you and Jade in the kitchen, to where you had set down yours and his presents. He trails a mist of fine blue glitter as he goes, the sight nearly majestic. “No murder, only cake.” He puts a box of cake mix next to the parcels, making sure the Betty Crocker label shows clearly.

John walks into the room at that, a pleased grin on his face when he sees you and Dave. “Hey there, pals,” he announces in greeting. 

“Glitter, John? Really?” Dave gripes, “I do have a reputation to uphold.” Despite his words, your brother walks over to John and extends a fist for a bump which his friend returns amiably. 

“You should both be thanking me for the improvement!” John gives the two of you a once-over with a nod. “You better throw away that devil-lady’s merchandise or I will be forced to follow you around and make sure every seat you take this evening is properly outfitted with a whoopi-cushion.”

“That is hardly what I’d call this,” you respond to his first comment hauntingly, taking umbrage at the suggestion while you brush at your clothes with as much dignity as you can muster given the circumstances. You make a mental note to get him back somehow--not to start a prank war, but to appease your disgruntled sense of failure at having been caught in one of his traps in the first place.

When neither of you move to toss out the cake box Dave insisted on bringing [“It’s practically a  _ tradition _ , Rose. The fact that it’s not yet gives the gesture the perfect sprinkling of true irony.”] Jade walks over and snatches it up, tossing it into the can across the room from her with incredible accuracy. 

“I know this is John’s birthday party, but let’s try and do something that’s fun for everyone.” She ushers you all out of the kitchen into the living room before making her way to the game cupboard near the TV.

That is how you and the others wind up playing a number of competitive board games. Eventually you all order a pizza and snuggle up on the sofa to watch a movie--John’s pick: Con Air, surprising no one. A “classic” he calls it as he pops it into the player and rejoins the pizza cuddle pile on the cushions. By the time the movie is over you’ve all found yourselves on the floor, presents already opened and fighting the typical party boredom after most activities have been completed.

“I have an idea,” you say, cutting off John halfway through his third attempt to get you all to watch Con Air for the 2nd time that evening. Everyone turns their attention to you as you dig in your purse and pull out a small green bag holding a tiny handheld mirror. “Let’s summon a demon.”

“Um,” Jade says, breaking the silence that follows your suggestion. “No way.” Your childhood friend has always been crazy superstitious, if not somewhat of an oracle if you were honest with yourself. She has always had an eerie way of predicting things. While you share a mutual interest in the “occult” so-to-speak, she leans more towards the light whereas you often find yourself chasing demon theories and dark magic dead ends.

“Why not? Demons aren’t real,” you raise an eyebrow at her in challenge.

“They definitely are, Rose,” her voice gains a slight hysterical edge as her eyes widen at you. “Even if you think they aren’t, why would you want to try and summon one? What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m never wrong,” you undo the drawstring, pulling out the round mirror carefully. “The lady who sold me this was certifiable,” you continue, “She’d have tried to sell me a haunted shoelace if I gave her the opportunity.”

“Then why did you buy it?” John asks, scooting closer to peer at it.

“It’s pretty,” you reply, shamelessly admitting to purchasing the green thing solely for aesthetic reasons. You knew it was old, the decorative rhinestones on it giving it a dainty feel while maintaining the overall gothic appeal of the piece. 

“What demon do you even want to summon,” Jade gripes, giving her brother a measured look as she sees him warming to the idea, taking the mirror from your hand as he looks it over.

“I don’t know. We could just do Bloody Mary.”

“Oh, come  _ on _ , Rose, we’re not in middle school.” Jade’s lips are turned down in a concerned, yet ironically childish pout. 

“We couldn’t do this in middle school! Now we have to live out all the friend tropes we missed while we’re in college,” you grin at her. “If you want we can get Dave to summon her. He’s too cool to be afraid, right?” 

Dave swallows, his nervousness visible despite his customary shades. “No way, Rose.”

“Aw, you  _ are _ afraid!”

“I  _ double dog dare you _ , Strider,” John interjects gleefully, holding the mirror out.

Jade stares at him with big eyes while he hesitates. “I’m not an idiot. Go ahead and summon the demon by yourselves.” He all but snaps at you both, crossing his arms and definitely siding with Jade. 

“Fine,” John grins at you, pushing his eye glasses up on his nose and handing the mirror back to you. “You’re the expert. Maybe you can get her to teach me some cool demon tricks or something. That’d be a cool birthday present.”

“I already got you a present,” you remind him, indicating to the Nick Cage body pillow he had tossed on the couch when you’d all decided to abandon the furniture for the floor. “But okay.” If they were too afraid to play a child’s game you weren’t going to be discouraged. Clearing your throat you take the remote, shutting the TV off and plunging the living room into a darkness broken only by the hall light one of them had left on. John scoots away so that you are in a real circle and you place the mirror on the floor in front of you. A pin-drop could be heard in the tense silence between you and your three best friends as you speak. “Bloody Mary.” The urban legend goes that a summoner should say the name three times in a dark room with a single candle while they spin in circles before a mirror. By that alone you know you are already doing the wrong thing but that doesn’t seem to occur to your friends as they take a sharp intake of breath following your second, “Bloody Mary.” An idea strikes you and you casually reach into your purse, pulling out a letter opener that had been sold with the mirror. Before anyone could say anything you use the surprisingly sharp blade to slice your palm, dropping a bead of blood onto the glass before you with your final, “Bloody Mary.”

“Rose!” Jade objects, springing to her feet in the exact horrified reaction you’d been hoping to elicit with your ploy. She runs over to the light switch, flipping it on; only as she does the house seems to shudder, all electrical activity ceasing. Jade squeaks as the living space is plunged into true darkness and you let out a vaguely maniacal laugh, the sound of thunder rumbling overhead.

“Oh my god,” your twin turns the flashlight on his cellphone on, illuminating the room dimly. “That couldn’t have been timed better if you tried.”

Afterwards you all spend the next four hours huddled together as the storm rages, reminiscing funny stories and making Jade feel less spooked. She’d bandaged your hand up, of course, managing to make you feel a bit bad for the stunt in the process. Later, just as you and Dave are preparing to leave, the storm having become calmer, the power is returned to the house much to the relief of a certain Jade Harley. You both bid them farewell before absconding in your Aston Martin back to the mansion your mother passive aggressively bought for you when she learned you were moving to Washington to attend college with your friends. You had refused to live there, having rented the mansion next door to it, but Dave had moved in citing “I’m too poor for this” and “ _ Seriously why pay rent when we have a perfectly good house right here _ ” as his reasons, forcing you to abandon your pride and follow suit. 

Once you get inside you both go your separate ways, eager to get some sleep after a long night of good fun with some good pals. You head to the bathroom to shower and attempt to rid yourself of most of the remaining glitter. When you’re drying your hair you look up to the mirror and freeze, certain you can see a shape standing behind you. You glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing, but when you look back you still can see a shape in the foggy glass. Slowly you lean forward, believing the myth in the 3am after-party haze, and your hand shakes as you wipe the glass, clearing the condensation away to reveal…. _ nothing _ . A small chuckle leaves your dry lips and you lick them nervously, shaking your head at yourself. Demons aren’t real; you’re certain of that. You’ve tried summoning them before--there was no way that the one time you did so as a joke that a demon would actually appear. You finish getting ready for bed and head back to your bedroom. Before you climb into bed, however, you fish the mirror from your purse and place it on your bedside table to remind yourself to clean the blood off it in the morning. It doesn’t take long for you to pass out as soon as your head hits the pillow, a dreamless sleep claiming your consciousness. 

* * *

_ Thud. _

You jerk awake with a start, your heart beating quickly in your chest. Your room is dark, the way you like it. Darker still, since you had been sure to decorate every room with the most gothic aesthetic as humanly possible to protest your imprisonment in your mother’s gift. You squint in the darkness, but you do not see anything. It could have been nothing--exploding head syndrome. Or thunder. You lean back in the bed but then you hear it again-- _ thud _ . It’s coming from your closet. Slowly, you reach out your arm and turn on your bedside lamp, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. Your closet is across from you to the left a bit. The door is cracked and you can definitely hear shuffling. 

“Dave?” Maybe he decided to scare you after you teased him at the party? You slowly stand, leaning forward in the direction of the door. Just then a form bolts out of the closet, barrelling towards you at inhuman speed. An startled gasp leaves your lips at the sight, but luckily you manage to dash out of the way and it slams into your bed, flinging itself to the other side of it with a resounding thudding noise and a grunt.  _ What? _ you think in disorientation, backed against the wall near your doorway, realizing this is in fact  _ not _ Dave. Slowly a head begins to rise from the other side of your bed and you see two horns rising first before a pair of yellow eyes fix on you, chilling you to the bone. A demon. Your breath stops short in your throat, realization dawning on you. Your eyes dart to the mirror next to your bed and back at the creeping figure, seeing its clawed hand press down on your bed as it rises to its feet. You’d heard that shattering summoning symbols or breaking circles could kill a demon if the summoning went wrong. Running from the room would only lead to you being caught--this thing is way too fast for that. Your only hope is to break the mirror.

You lunge forward, grabbing the reflective disc, but as your hand closes around it, you feel the demon grab you from the side. A pair of sharp teeth sink into your neck and you scream as a searing, white pain surges from the puncture wound, followed by a dragging sensation as it begins to drink your blood. Your knees buckle, but you’re caught in its grasp, and it supports you, tugging you closer to get a better angle on your neck. The shock of the attack shakes off at the tug and you raise your arm holding the mirror and throw it as hard as you can against your wall. As you do so the demon releases you with an agonized scream of “No!” falling to the ground behind you. You stumble, collapsing to your knees, your hand clasping down on your neck as you feel blood leak out of the wound. You let out a dazed whimper, definitively terrified and thoroughly confused. You turn around to look at the demon on the floor behind you, panting in relief. Your panic spikes again, however, when you see it is still breathing. Your heart pounds more adrenaline through your veins, and the panicked moment is short-lived before you are on your feet again, dragging your office chair over in a hurry. With less difficulty than would be experienced if you were not currently entrenched in your body’s fight-or-flight response, you lift the demon into the chair, grabbing anything close to you to use to tie it down. Still reeling, you back away from it, a vague sensation of awe trickling in as you get a good look at the creature while you struggle to remember everything you’d read on how to handle demons and vampires over your angsty teenage years.

You run from your room and shut the door behind you, leaning your back against it and panting, trying to calm your mind enough to remember what you  _ need _ . Just then Dave shows up, having clearly run from across the house. He is in only pajama pants, his hair tousled and his face void of sunglasses, a crease on his cheek from his pillow. Your mind is in overdrive--you even notice that he has a feather in his hair that must have escaped from his pillow somehow.

“Rose! Are you okay? I heard you scream--”

“Salt!” you exclaim, your mind finally catching up. At his confused glare you backtrack, clearing your throat. “I--I’m fine,” you force yourself to breathe normally and give him a calm smile. “Everything is under control.”

“You’re  _ bleeding _ ,” Dave stares at you with eyes wide with concern, taking a step closer.

“Really,” you gasp, “I hadn’t noticed. I definitely don’t need my half-awake brother to point out the obvious to me right now. What I need is  _ salt _ !”


	2. Rosa Swan and the Erised Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of lesbian vibes for the loyal fans
> 
> also i'm so excited for ch 4 so pray for me during ch 3

You really should have known better. Sweat beads on your brow as you stare at the demon you have haphazardly secured to your desk chair with your bedsheet, some stockings, and a broken iphone cable you had never bothered to throw away. There is still dried blood adding colour to the grey tinted lips of the sanguine-thieving intruder (vampire? succubus?  _ Bloody Mary? _ ??). Really, you're appalled by the indication that any self-respecting demon would name themselves Bloody Mary and proceed to bite the person who summons them. If you are honest with yourself, you had definitely agreed to move closer to Jade and John in hopes of securing a hot vampire girlfriend. 

You look down at the empty salt container in your hand and place it on the bed next to you. You had finally gotten Dave to go to bed earlier [“Really, Dave, I need the salt for a cocktail.” “Yes, I'm fine, the blood is a woman thing you; I could explain the inner workings of the female body to you for the rest of the morning if you'd like.”] he'd followed you into the kitchen and stood in the doorway while you rummaged for the sea salt in the pantry. His face had been the very picture of suspicion, but eventually he relented at your insistence of  _ fineness _ and the like, grumpily wandering off to bed. In his absence you then proceeded to gather garlic in any form you could find it, as well as any sage--which turned out to be cooking sage but it'd have to do. Once you returned to your room you had then set up a masterful trap of the herbs and salt, going so far as to peel some garlic cloves and stashing then in your pockets just in case.  You even googled for a couple hours on how to better your trap, but you couldn’t find much more than you already had done. Needless to say, this demon/vampire is thoroughly trapped.

You sip and set down the cocktail you definitely made--both as a cover and to help you settle your nerves. You’d also haphazardly taped a bit of toilet paper to your neck, though the bleeding had stopped fairly soon after the the demon had let you go. You shift the tissue, annoyed by it, and inch closer to the creature. Now that it wasn’t actively trying to rip your throat out you could feel yourself becoming impossibly curious. It looks harmless with its eyes closed--feminine almost, you think. The demon has strange horns, one horn being exactly the shape you would expect a horn to be, while the other hooks to the side, resembling a half-headed arrow. What fascinates you most is the memory of her large, yellow eyes and you bite your lip, suddenly wishing the creature were awake. It is wearing strange clothing--red robe looking attire that reminded you of something out of a science fiction film. Your curiosity drives you to move even closer, reaching a hand out. You hesitate, checking to see if it is still breathing steadily, your eyes lingering on the sharp white teeth peeking out of her upper lip.  _ Definitely a vampire _ . You lower your hand slowly until it rests on the tip of the demon’s horn. Gingerly, you drag two fingers down the length of it, admiring the cool texture, and then back up, following the curve until you push against the hooked tip, noting to yourself that it did not feel particularly sharp. You run your fingers back down the protrusion, wonder how the horns feel at the base where they meet the skin, but before you could answer that particular question the demon gasps sharply and stirs. You jerk your hand away and take a step back before those alien eyes open once more and find you with a confused stare, blinking in disorientation. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” you recover your composure easily, crossing your arms as if you hadn’t just been fondling the unconscious creature. “I’ve a lot of questions for you. As you can see, you are trapped, so it’s not as though you are going to have much choice but to answer me.” You pause briefly but do not get a reply. In fact, the demon isn’t even looking at you; its eyes are darting lazily around the room, still looking confused. “First, why are you in my room? Second, why did you  _ bite me _ , and third, why did shattering the mirror not kill you? All the books I’ve read clearly state that--”

“The  _ mirror _ ,” the demon speaks, sounding slightly hysterical, “What have you done?”

“I broke the mirror,” you say slowly, indicating to where the object lay. You hadn’t moved it.

It fixes its eyes on you, “Why would breaking the mirror have  _ killed  _ me? That was my portal! All you have done is doomed me to a life trapped in this realm,” it groans, speaking almost to itself, “How am I supposed to get home?”

“Well,” you shift uncomfortably. You refuse to feel guilty, however, bringing forth your righteous indignation. “I wouldn’t have broken it if you hadn’t tried to murder me!”

“I was not going to kill you,” the demon growls. “I was just feeding on some of your blood.”

“What? How is that better? What gave you the  _ right  _ to--”

“You  _ summoned _ me,” it jerks against its restraints, its earlier confusion being replaced with anger. “I come out of the mirror! I suck your blood and you get a  _ contract _ ! After I do what you want I get to go  _ home _ , honestly it is not complicated. That is how it is supposed to go! What gave  _ you _ the right to  _ trap me here _ ?”

Now you definitely feel bad. “It’s not like I had any idea! I thought you were Bloody Mary--she kills people! You attacking me certainly didn’t help…”

“It is Bloody  _ Maryam _ , thank you very much. I only kill people if I am  _ contracted to _ .”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, flicking your eyes to the shrouded window, regretting not having pulled the curtains. “So you’re a girl then,” you ask on reflex, not sure how to process the shitty situation you have created for you both.

“Obviously,” she begins to fidget.

“Uh, well, now what?” As you speak the demon breaks free of her restraints, rising to her feet.

“Now I am going to kill you out of spite.”

“Wh-what?” you take a step back, willing the sun to rise. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she easily leaps over the traps you set and begins to approach you. “You have trapped me here, so I do not feel particularly inclined to contract with you. I might as well take your life to feel better and go about finding a way back.”

You angle yourself sideways and let yourself be backed closer to the window, reaching behind you to grab the black-out fabric. “I’ll pull the curtains! The sun--”

“You still think that will work? When nothing else you have tried has?” she grins at you and you realize she has a mouth full of fangs, albeit shorter fangs than the two that would protrude. 

_ Shit _ . Your back hits the window and you gasp and flinch as the demon leans both hands against it on either side of your head, scrambling to find something to say to her that wouldn’t result in your brother finding your lifeless body in your bedroom after you had convinced him to go to bed. The demon shifts, using a hand to pull the toilet paper away from your throat. You meet her gaze with wide eyes as she does, trying desperately not to find this situation somehow erotically charged. She holds your gaze for a moment before she lowers her head and nuzzles at your throat, running her tongue along the crusted bite from earlier. “Wait,” you gasp, pushing a hand against her chest. “What if I help you get home? That could be the contract. My life for your return.”

You feel her huff against your throat, and you swallow nervously, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. After a moment she pulls back and raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “What makes you think you could find me a way home?”

“I found the mirror in the first place, didn’t I? I’m sure I can fix this.” You don’t have the slightest clue how you would pull this off, but you meet her speculative gaze confidently. She narrows her eyes.

“Two weeks.”

“ _ Two weeks _ ,” you protest, “that’s not nearly enough time. Two months!”

“One month or no contract,” she says darkly, licking her lips.

“I don’t…” you hesitate, your eyes shifting from her eyes to her mouth and back to her eyes again. “Okay, deal.” Before you even finish the last word, she has already dipped her head and sunk her teeth into the wound on your neck. You let out a startled squeak, “You-you said you wouldn’t kill me!” You try to struggle but it’s half-hearted, because… it doesn’t hurt like last time. In fact, the painful burning feels more like a fluid wave of heat. It spreads from the bite to the tips of your toes and somehow your free hand finds its way into the demon’s hair, holding her closer to you as close your eyes. You tip your head to the side to give her better access and run your hand up through her soft hair, accidentally finding one of her horns as you do. At the touch, she presses her body against yours, hands falling down from by your head to rest on your hips, and a sound much like a purr coming from her throat as she drinks. You feel yourself grow light-headed, a voice screams in the back of your head warning you that this could be the End™ but you can’t find it in yourself to care at this moment. When the demon finally pulls away you almost fight to stop her but you couldn’t stop her before she bit you and you definitely can’t fight her now. 

“See?” she asks as you let your hand slide down from her head, resting it on her arm. You lick your dry lips, still lost in the haze. “No killing.” 

You squirm against her, but you don’t push her away. Something tells you that you probably wouldn’t be standing if not for her hold. You find your voice after a moment, clearing your throat. “Then why did you bite me again…?”

She’s studying your face with an unreadable expression. “I had to seal the contract.” She hums, a smile curving her lips, “I will need to feed every day, though I do not think you will mind that very much.”

Your stomach does a little flip at the thought, and your face is already flushed, but if it were not it certainly would be now. “I…” There is no way you are going to admit to liking it, at least not verbally. 

“It is supposed to feel good,” she fills the silence of your unfinished response with an explanation. “The first bite hurts, but once the contract is in place it does not. Otherwise, this scenario would be more difficult and unpleasant than necessary for both of us.”

“Oh,” you say quietly, blinking slowly at her. You feel vaguely drunk but after a moment or two you seem to regain your cognitive function enough to stop staring at her like a lovesick puppy. “Oh,” you repeat, straightening and supporting your own weight again but not removing your hands from her arm or chest. “Okay, right. We have a contract now. Should I call you Bloody Maryam or just Maryam? It's probably going to be weird if I walk around referring to you as Bloody anything, especially around Dave, but I can make it work if you want, I…”

She clears her throat and you trail off, not having realized that you were rambling. She's watching you with a measured look, and does so for a few heartbeats before she speaks. “Kanaya.”

“Kanaya,” you repeat, tasting the word. It sounds strange, but not exactly  _ demonic _ . You were half expecting her to ask you to call her some sort of Lovecraftian title if not her own given one. “I'm Rose.”

“I know,” she replies, taking a step back from you and watching you as you sway for a moment, your hands falling to your sides. “Your blood told me.”

“Oh great. What else did my blood tell you,” you grumble, not exactly expecting an answer and not receiving one. You survey the mess you've made in your room, annoyed that it was all for nothing. You walk past the demon and make a beeline for your cocktail, which you down in one swig. You set the glass down and turn back to Kanaya, pointing at her. She's watching you with mild amusement, her arms crossed. “Stay,” you then walk out of the room and shut the door behind you. You contemplate getting a vacuum and cleaning the salt off your floor but quickly veto the idea. Your mom pays for biweekly cleanings as a response to you setting up daily flower deliveries facetiously thanking her for the house. Let the cleaners deal with your mess. Instead you wander to the kitchen and open the fridge door. Somewhere you had read that orange juice was good for blood loss, so you pull the bottle out and pour yourself half a glass, filling the other half with vodka from your freezer. It was that kind of day, you decide, taking a long drink. 

When you have finished your healthy beverage, you walk towards the bathroom with a sigh. Luckily Dave does not appear to be awake, and as today is a Sunday you do not have to deal with classes. You hurry past your bedroom door, not bothering to pause to see if Kanaya noticed you. Being that she is demon, you can't assume she wouldn't be able to somehow see through walls or anything. Once you are inside the bathroom, you close the door and lean on the sink, breathing deeply. You look at yourself in the mirror and sigh as you see what a wreck you have become in the last couple of hours. You have circles under your eyes, your hair is sticking up everywhere, but the wound on your neck isn't bleeding nor has it seemed to have. Instead of being messy like after the initial puncture, it now is confined to just two half crescent holes with no leakage. But the collar of your night shirt is still stained from earlier, giving you a more haggard look. You fish in the cabinets under the sink and come out with antiseptic and a couple banadi) band-aids, patching yourself up nicely. As an afterthought you rinse your face and brush your hair before leaving the room. 

When you walk out the door you almost walk into Kanaya, who is standing as though she were considering entering right as you left. For the second time this morning you squeak and  _ honestly  _ it's mortifying. 

“Kanaya!” You look up and down the hall for Dave before you fix her with an annoyed glare. “I told you to stay.”

“I did stay,” she replies coolly. “You were taking so long I began to wonder if you had left the house altogether.”

“You can't,” you make a vague gesture, “sense where I am through the contract?”

“No,” Kanaya gives you a look like you just said the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. 

“Ah,” you grab her wrist and begin to drag her back towards your room, which she clearly lets you do. One you both are inside you shut the door and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Look, I don't want Dave to know about you or the contract. He's my brother, and an idiot. He'll probably attack you on sight or make a big deal out of me lying to him. We are going to need some sort of disguise for you, a cover story.”

“Do you want me to kill him? That will eliminate the threat of him knowing as well as stop this distraction from hindering your fulfillment of the contract.”

“What? No. Absolutely no killing Dave.” Your heart freezes at the thought of Kanaya attacking your twin. There would be no way to stop her and as badass as he thinks himself to be he would not stand a chance. Kanaya is clearly confused by your objection, and you infer there must be a cultural gap of some kind. “You can't kill him because if I lost him I would have no reason to want to live.”  _ Which means I won't help you get home _ , you think. 

“I see.” Kanaya thankfully drops the subject.

“Okay,” you sigh, sitting on the bed heavily. You wish you had another cocktail. Kanaya stands by the closed door watching you as you flop backwards, rubbing your hands over your face in exasperation. “I’m going to say you’re my friend or something.” You perk up at the idea, jumping up and heading to your closet. Inside you discover a floppy gardening hat and a longsleeved shirt, digging out some jeans. “You’re my new roommate I am bringing in to cover the rent.” You smirk and turn around and toss the items on the bed. “Change into these; they’re less suspicious than your demon attire.” You didn’t pay rent--every time you sent a payment to your mother she wired it back immediately. This was an inherently passive aggressive move; entirely believable.

Kanaya wrinkles her nose, commenting, “What is rent?” as she begins to strip. 

“Perfect,” You catch yourself watching and quickly turn back to the closet as soon as you glimpse the demon’s belly, a blush on your cheeks. You clear your throat and pick out your own outfit, changing as quickly as possible. When you turn back around you can see that Kanaya did not turn away while you changed, a strange look in her eyes as she meets your gaze unashamed. The flush on your cheeks deepened but you ignore it, striding past her to your vanity and plucking up a pair of sunglasses. 

“Here,” you say, holding them out to her. “Your eyes are a dead giveaway.”

She takes the pink glasses--yes you own pink sunglasses--with a bemused smile, slipping them on. You take in her look with a nod, finishing your own outfit with a nice headband. “We’ll climb out the window and come in the front door, okay? This is going to be flawless;  Dave’s more gullible than a Baptist watching Fox News.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe


	3. Google Induced Insomnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make some references that my gen Z friends told me are too old to understand. So uhhh fucking google them please. :)

“I’m not buying it, Lalonde,” Dave announces, unamused. You can see him giving Kanaya a  _ very _ scrutinous once-over. 

“What do you mean you’re ‘not buying it’?” You cross your arms defensively.

“Well, first off, there’s no way in hell you made a friend.” Dave peeks over his sunglasses, giving you a hard look. “Second off, she’s clearly wearing your clothes.”

“She is  _ not _ ,” Kanaya is wearing the white shirt you lent her and a little-used pair of Aeropostale jeans. How did Dave even know you owned these?  “How  _ dare  _ you imply I own anything other than the finest black or dark purple clothing.”

Dave shakes his head, “And what kind of name is Kanaya? What’s that even supposed to be--some sort of variation on Kanye? Is she going to start rapping or have a neo-conservative breakdown before my very eyes? Is that why she’s wearing sunglasses? You  _ know _ sunglasses are my thing; I am the alpha, there can only be  _ one _ , Rose.”

You toss your hands up in the air. “Don’t project your insecurities on my brand new absolutely normal friend.” You gesture at a completely silent Kanaya and as you do your gaze drops to her feet and you groan inwardly realizing you had forgotten to give her shoes. She has distinctively different feet from a human, if the claws were anything to go by. There’s no way Dave missed her feet. 

“We don’t even need a roommate. We don’t  _ pay rent _ ,” your twin was growing increasingly exasperated.

“Just because  _ you’re _ a freeloader doesn’t mean we all are, Dave,” you retort with just as much exasperation. 

“Right, then how do you explain her feet, Rose? Why isn’t she wearing shoes? Is she already in her celebrity mental crisis--don’t think I missed the claws--what the  _ hell _ , Rose?”

“She’s a cosplayer!”

“For  _ what _ ?!” Dave pushes past you before you can stop him, getting in Kanaya’s face. “Why are you even with her? What is she paying you to go along with whatever she’s planning? Oh shit--is this a trick? Am I being punked?” He swivels around to face you. “Where are the cameras, Rose? Where’s Ashton Kutcher?” 

At that moment Kanaya chooses to speak, her voice incredibly level in comparison to Dave’s rising hysteria. “May I go inside? My feet are cold.”

Dave pauses, turning slowly to stare at her. “Ah, why the fresh-fuck not.”

“Finally,” she mutters, walking past you and leading the way inside.

As you move to follow her, Dave grabs your arm and hisses, “We’re not finished here, Lalonde.” 

You pull your arm away from him snapping, “Fine,” before walking inside. You quickly walk up behind Kanaya and lace your arms together. “Let’s head upstairs now,” you half-whisper, leading her towards the stairs. You can feel Dave’s eyes bore into you the whole way but you don’t look back.

Once you’re in your room you shut the door and lean against it with a sigh. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“Did it? I had gathered that it occurred in the least favourable way, given your confidence before the encounter.” Kanaya remarks dryly, sitting on your bed. 

You huff in response, walking around your mess of traps and lifting your office chair out and shaking the remains of the restraints off it before setting it down in front of your desk. You sit in it and open your laptop, booting it up. “Well, no one died.”

Kanaya is silent for a while while you load up your computer, letting it run through an update. While it does so you pull your phone from your pocket and google the antique store you had found Kanaya’s mirror at. After about the sixteenth ring you give up, hanging up with a sigh. Your computer is fully loaded by then and you turn your attention to it, opening a browser up and googling ‘antique mirrors’ so to begin an exhaustive search of every online 2nd hand retailer for a mirror similar to the one you broke, which you have set on your desk by now. Its fractured edges glint at you, reminding you of the gravity of this situation. You grit your teeth and use your mom’s credit card to begin to order every single mirror you can, no matter the dimensions. Surely your mom will think this is another elaborate gesture and forgive the expenses in exchange for having a living, breathing daughter.  

You do not notice how much time has passed before you realize that your room has fallen into a decisive darkness, illuminated only by your computer screen. Occasionally, when you got up to pee or squirrel food out of the kitchen without Dave noticing, you saw that Kanaya had found some of your old vampire romances novels--fitting--which she was reading at a fast pace judging by the stacks you had seen. You had noticed the sun nearing the horizon but you had been so focused on your goal that you did not want to pause for very long. But what pulls you away from your search now is a pressure on the back of your chair and the hair-raising sensation of a presence behind you. You tilt your head up and meet the demon’s yellow gaze, her hat and glasses long abandoned. You turn your attention back to the computer without saying anything, buying another old compact from at least a century ago. Your eyes dart to the clock on your screen and you realize with a bit of a jolt that it is already approaching 3am in the morning. Your breath catches in your chest as you feel Kanaya’s breath on your neck, her lips brushing over skin and bandaid giving the touch a unique sensation. 

“Kanaya?” your voice is steady, but you don’t feel steady. You close your eyes for a moment, which are burning from looking at a screen for so long, and let out a slow breath, a deep exhaustion seeming to have set into your bones. 

“I grow hungry,” she says against your skin. You lick your lips and pull away from her, reaching up to take the band-aids off your neck. They had no evidence of having been bled on that you can see and you decide you will likely forego that formality while you’re contracted to her; they’d just be in the way. She waits until you have set the plasters on your desk before she spins your chair around, startling you. You don’t react really as she climbs on your lap, her legs falling on either side of you. She doesn’t wait long, meeting your eyes with a hungry look briefly before dipping her head and sinking her teeth into your neck. You hum sleepily as you feel the warmth of her bite spread through you. It’s over far too soon for your liking, and your loose grip on her arms is lost as she pulls away, your hands falling uselessly into your lap as she stands.

When she does back away you sigh, blinking at her slowly to clear your vision before swiveling your chair back around to face your now darkened screen. You touch the mousepad before you can fully catch your reflection, loading up a new website and continuing your search. You must have fallen asleep at some point, however, because you woke later curled up next to a sleeping demon with the sun peeking horribly through a crack in your curtains. You roll away from the sunbeam with a mental grumble--being backed into the curtain had clearly shifted it earlier. Taking a deep breath you slowly let yourself begin to drift to sleep and then your mind reminds you that you had in fact been in your computer chair last you remember. You crack an eye open at the thought and find yourself staring at the illuminated face of a gently sleeping demon for the second time in 48 hours. After staring for a couple heartbeats, you close your eyes again, warmth rising to your face as you realize Kanaya had carried you to the bed. You're not sure how she managed without waking you, or how you managed to drop your guard enough to even pass out; you're not sure why she even bothered. What you are sure of is this is going to be a complicated month. 

 

* * *

The next couple day are much like the first day--you search, you buy, you start over. Your house is littered with empty packages and mirrors cover almost every surface, a few full-length ones lining the hallways that lead to your room starting at the front door. You have been steadily ignoring the hard looks Dave has been giving you, bending over backwards to make sure he’s never in a room alone with you or with Kanaya, who actually hasn’t left your room, making a cocoon on your bed of pillows, blankets, and books. You keep fetching her more from the house library whenever you go out; she is currently reading the Hobbit, turning each page with a rapt awe that brings a smile to your face as you watch her. You were eating from a box of shitty snack food, having brought as much up to your room as possible to avoid kitchen Dave encounters. You yawn, setting the box aside and standing to stretch. 

“Hey,” you say, watching the demon finish her sentence before she turns a distracted gaze to you. “I’m not having much luck. How about we go on an expedition to the shop I found your mirror at?” A burst of amusement almost causes you to laugh as you see her frown, looking down at the book and then back up at you.

“Very well,” she concedes, placing a bookmark in the novel and setting it to the side. 

After a few minutes of prepping, you have her bundled up--wearing shoes this time-- and you’ve made sure you look semi-presentable. You flinch when you look in the mirror at your unwashed hair and at the bruises on your neck around the bites. Maybe you should ask Kanaya to bite you somewhere new tonight… Colour rises to your cheeks as you have a dirty thought, shaking your head.  _ Now is not the time to be having gay thoughts about your vampire demon, Lalonde. Get it together,  _ you chastise yourself and hurrying out of the bathroom before Kanaya comes looking for you once more. You grab your keys from your room and the two of you head down the stairs and out the door. You don’t see Dave, and as his truck is gone from the driveway you realize he’s  out. How convenient. You situate the demon in the passenger side of the car, mildly surprised that she seem familiar with vehicles and how they work. She must have had contracts in this century then, you conclude, climbing into the driver’s side of the car and pulling out of the driveway.  

It takes about 15 minutes to reach the shop in the traffic. The drive is silent; you are too tired to try and hold a conversation with the typically silent demon beside you. You can't help but glance at her occasionally to see she was watching the world pass by out the window. The profile view of her with the floppy hat, the sunshine casting a glow over her half-shielded face, was strangely beautiful--as though the two of you were trapped inside some sort of indie film. When you arrive at the shop, you climb out alone, approaching the dark-tinted windows. Instinctively you try the door only to realize it’s locked. You let out a small curse under your breath and cup your hands to the glass and peek inside to see that it has been emptied with no trace of a shop having been there.  _ Wonderful _ . Sighing in resignation you return to your parked vehicle and climb back inside. 

“Well?”

“The shop appears to be closed,” you wipe a hand over your face, exhaustion seeming to ooze from your bones into your veins. “I can try getting ahold of the owner of the building and see what they can tell me about the woman who runs it.” The last bit is muttered, almost like you're talking to yourself rather than to Kanaya as you begin your drive back to the house, not bothering with making any other stops. 

When you get to the mansion you groan, seeing that not only is Dave's truck back but John's car is in the driveway beside it. You can't blame your twin for wanting his best ((bro)) over, though, especially since you haven't been spending any time with him. 

You silently get out if the vehicle, Kanaya following suit. The two of you make your way back inside the house, and as Kanaya rarely makes a ruckus when she moves you didn't bother clueing her in on being silent as you creep inside. It was all in vain, however, because as soon as the door clicked shut you heard Jade in the other room call out your name. 

“Nope,” you mutter loud enough for only you and Kanaya to hear. “Let's get upstairs fast.”

The two of you move quickly to the stairs and you motion for Kanaya to go first. When you're halfway up you see Jade come into the entryway. 

“Rose?” she calls, making eye contact with you as you look back. 

You quickly turn away and finish climbing the stairs without responding. As fast as possible without running you walk down the hall to your room. But you can feel her eyes on you most of way, as the stairs and hallway wrapped around the entry for a good portion until the rooms began. Once you make it to your room you shut the door, locking it. You lean against it and close your eyes, breathing deeply for a few moments before you push yourself off it and look around. Kanaya is watching you from her nest which she was already situated in. You offer her a half smile before making your way back over to the computer. 

The others don't bother you for the rest of the day. You can hear them moving around, and you're fairly certain they've been roped into some sort of cartoon marathon by Dave. Around 10pm you finally give up. having located the number of the building to call in the morning and ordered 10 more mirrors. You shut your laptop and stand, stretching. Your lights were already off (Kanaya did not seem to need them to read) and so you carefully made you way to your bed in the darkness. You flop onto it, thoroughly beat, and tug some blanket away from Kanaya’s nest. 

“Rose,” she says, almost hushed. She's moved so that she's not nesting so much as she's sharing the bed, laying so that if you had night vision you'd surely see her face. You know what she's asking for without her having to say any more. 

You extend an arm to her, finding her own hand. “Can you bite my wrist or does it have to be my neck?” You're mimicking her vaguely hushed tone, muffling a yawn with your other hand. Your yawn is cut short as you sharply inhale at the strange sensation of her teeth sinking into your wrist. She pulled her teeth away and swiped her tongue over the sensitive skin, and you shuddered, unaware of exactly how hot you'd find that. You bite your lip to stop yourself outright moaning as she bites down again and drinks. It's only through immense self control that you avoid wrapping your entire body around hers, and as soon as she's done drinking you pull your arm back and roll so your back is to her. If she can hear your heavy breathing she doesn't say anything. 

You wake up after a couple hours of sleep, roused by unsettling dreams that you can’t quite remember but maintain spooked by. You slip off the bed and head for the bathroom to shower, the warm water helping you feel alive again. Thoroughly refreshed you return to your bedroom and begin your search over again, munching on a cold poptart from your stash.

       Everything is peaceful for a while and you vaguely notice the birds outside your window as the sky lights up. Just as your room begins to fill with the sun’s light, there is a knock at your bedroom door. You sigh heavily and stand, stretching the cramps from your exhausted limbs, before you approach the door and pull it open. Jade is standing in your doorway shuffling her feet and wringing her hands. 

“Hey,” she says, offering you a nervous smile. 

“Hey,” your repeat, returning her smile with your own tired one. “Did they even draw straws or did they force you to come up here?”

“I offered,” Jade laughs a little more relaxed. “Rose we really need to talk to you. And to, um...Kanaya?”

You sigh deeply; you knew this was coming. Concerned interventions are the risk one faces when they make family from friends. “Give me five minutes? I need to wake her.”

“Okay,” Jade reaches out and clasps your shoulder briefly before retreating back down to the living room.  

You sigh, leaning back against your door as you shut it. Rubbing a hand over your face you marvel at how disastrously incompetent you have been in your attempts to protect your friends from the shit situation you have got yourself in. After taking a moment to collect yourself you turn to face the bed and flinch as you see Kanaya is awake and staring at you intently. Her yellow eyes are unreadable but they give you an uncomfortable exposed feeling of being looked  _ through _ .

“Good, you’re up,” you say, not acknowledging being spooked. You avert your eyes and rub the back of your neck and sigh again. “It’s time for an intervention.” 

***

You refuse to act nervous as you sit on the overpriced sofa your mother made sure came with the house. Beside you is Kanaya in her ridiculous disguise, sitting perfectly still. Unnaturally still. But you don’t let it get to you as you calmly fiddle with the strings hanging off the blanket you’re sitting on--a nice piece that you had knit to drape over the sofa, giving it a distinctly shabby appearance that pleases you. 

“Rose,” you clench your teeth as your twin speaks, his voice too serious and too blatantly concerned. He’s the last person you wanted involved in this situation, particularly if it meant you’d have to sit through an interrogation surrounded by all your friends. If anyone understands the importance of lying to protect the people you love, it’s definitely Dave, which is what makes this whole situation a million times more serious. If  _ he _ was concerned enough to drag John and Jade into this then you definitely fucked up. So you do the only thing you can--you stare at your feet and cross your arms.

“You’re our best friend, Rose,” Jade says, her soft tone more painful than any medieval torture device. “We’re here for you. Please, just…” she trails off and you know she’s biting her lip nervously.

“Seriously,” Dave says and you look up at him, trying to keep your expression cool and blank. “Is it the mob? I have connections. We could fuck some people up for you.”

You gaze shifts to John who is sitting there silently and staring at Kanaya with an look of mild hostility. A sigh escapes you for the third time in the past hour and you uncross your arms, leaning forward so your elbows rest on your knees. You clasp your hands to stop them shaking and lick your lips.

“Okay.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath before meeting each of their eyes, settling your gaze on Dave. “She’s not my friend.”

“I knew it,” Dave gasps.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Bullshit.”

You hold your twin’s gaze as much as reasonably possible what with his shades. You're a Lalonde. You won't crack. You reach your hand over and lace your fingers with Kanaya's and arch an eyebrow at him. “We're super in love.”

“Jesus fucked sideways on a pogo stick, if you don't start being honest--”

“A girlfriend?” Jade perks up in a way that distinctly reminds you of a golden retriever who just saw her owner pick up a stick to throw. “Oh Rose that's so cool! Where did you meet?”

John scoffs, “At a rave or something shady, I bet. You look like you're on drugs.”

“Guys, she's obviously lying.”

“Why didn't you tell me? We're besties,” Jade is frowning slightly now, eyes narrowing. 

“Because they're not dating.”

“Is this some sort of Fifty Shades of Grey shit?” John pipes in, both of them ignoring Dave's interruption again. 

Kanaya slips her hand from your grasp, instead encircling your wrist with her grip, her cool skin chilling you through the fabric of your sleeve. She pushes lightly on the bite mark from the night before, and you glance over to meet her alien gaze. You shudder unconsciously and the impatient glint in her eyes and remember her original suggestion of just killing the people in your way on the first night. You clear your throat and speak, interrupting your now bickering family, without breaking eye contact with her. 

“Kanaya isn’t human.”

“No shit, Lalonde.” Dave snarks and you snap around to look at him. He rolls his eyes and points at her still exposed feet. “I have never met a cosplayer good enough at scalie-suits to pull of feet that look that real.”

You sigh, running your free hand through your ruffled hair and lean back, annoyed. “If you knew then why are you assaulting me with Jeff VanVonderen finesse?” 

Dave bristled, “I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been sneaking around behind my back, keeping  _ secrets _ , and blatantly lying to me? Not to mention the fucking mirrors.” He gestures at an obscene pile of useless mirrors.

“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t say anything to you was because I don’t need your help? I doubt it--you’re too enthralled by your masturbatory heroic delusions to even entertain the notion that an independent woman wouldn’t need to be rescued.”

“My  _ what _ \--”

“Excuse me,” John interjects, “Are we seriously not going to address the fact that there’s a monster of unknown origins dating your sister?”

You shoot an annoyed look at him before turning to look at Kanaya. She has released your arm and is peeling off some of the layers of the disguise, shaking her head so her hair fell messily around her prominent horns. She drops the sunglasses with a hint of distaste onto the pile containing the hat, sweater, and scarf. Now all she is wearing are the jeans and an Aeropostale shirt, which you just now are noticing clings to her alien body in a distinctly complimentary way. She looks up and meets your eyes and you can see mild amusement dancing in those gleaming, fascinating orbs.

“I see now why you insisted I not kill this one,” she make a vague head jerk towards Dave. “He may be meddlesome but he is certainly entertaining.”

“Holy  _ fuck _ , Rose.” Dave snaps and you groan internally at her lack of tact. “What the fucking fuck are you doing, Jesus Fucking Christ.” He leaps up and begins to pace as he continues to mutter obscenities.

“This is Bloody Maryam,” you say and you reach over to pat her thigh as you do. Really you can’t resist. “She’s the demon I summoned from my mirror.”

Jade gasps, “I knew that mirror was bad news.”

“Why is she here,” John asks, and it’s his turn to do the defensive arm cross. “What does she want?”

“Well,” you start slowly, biting your lip, “I may have, um, broken her mirror. So she can’t go away until I fix it.”

“Oh my God.” Dave pauses in his pacing. “Can’t you just glue it back together?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, no. But I am trying to find a replacement. If I can find a mirror with the perfect dimensions I’m sure I can enchant it to get her home. Or I was hoping to find another portal altogether.”

“Why is this even your problem,” Dave pursues the heart of the matter in a way that makes you want to tape his mouth shut. “She’s a demon.”

“Because,” you say hurriedly, cutting off Kanaya as she begins to speak. “We’re uh--girlfriends.” You give Kanaya a tight smile before turning back to your brother. “And I’m a nice gal.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies slowly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“We’ll help too,” Jade says, her whole demeanor brighter now that she feels she has a grasp on the situation again.

“I really don’t think--”

“Yeah, we can help with the research,” John interrupts you.

You sigh, “I guess I can’t stop you.”

“Rose,” you feel the cool hand on your arm again. “I am hungry.”

“And on that note,” you announce, jumping to your feet. There is an edge of hysteria in your voice that made Dave’s eyes narrow even more so he looks like he’s squinting at you. “I’m going to return to my cave of antisocial witchery.” You grab Kanaya’s hand and pull her to her feet. You don’t let go as you ascend the stairs, feeling more grounded with the contact.

“Wait, Rose!” Dave calls after you but you just increase your speed, hurrying down the hall and into your room before they can catch up. You shut the door and lean your forehead against the wood, breathing heavily. 

You feel those cool hands again, fingers dancing along your back. A shiver runs through your body as you feel her lips brushing your neck before her teeth sink into your skin. “I-I thought I said no more neck biting,” you all but moan, head falling to the side as you relax into her arms as she slides them around your waist. You bring an arm up and tangle your fingers in her hair, eyes rolling closed with the pulling sensation of your blood flowing into her mouth. You feel her tongue pressing wetly against your skin, shifting sensually with each swallow and it makes you gasp breathily, your body filling with liquid fire. “Fuck,” you breathe rolling your body back as if you could somehow get closer to her. But then it is over as fast as it had begun. You groan quietly as she licks the puncture wounds clean, but she doesn’t let you go right away, resting her chin on your shoulder while you catch your breath. Right about when you can feel your legs again she slowly steps back, her hands falling away. You clear your throat and awkwardly move around her, avoiding eye contact though you can feel her heavy gaze as you return to the computer, logging back in to continue your search.

What  a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also listen there might be typos but just be grateful I'm actually finishing this gay bullshit.   
> Thanks for reading give me a comment or kudo love you bye.


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